


Why are we Always Here for Each Other? (Whump Compilation)

by Critique_Masochist



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: All criticism welcome, Angel/Demon Relationship, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Destructive Criticism Welcome, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I cant wait to write more of this :), Just write me comments and suggestions and I will do them, M/M, Prompt Fic, Sickfic, Whump, is that what its called
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 06:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20110441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Critique_Masochist/pseuds/Critique_Masochist
Summary: Chapter 1: Crowley (stabbed)Chapter 2: ???If you enjoy my writing style/mess, please leave your suggestions as to what the next chapter should be about in the comments! Let's see where this goes :)





	Why are we Always Here for Each Other? (Whump Compilation)

2nd February, 506 years after Earth’s creation

Daily horoscope for libra:

You might be getting bored of life but that is because you are always looking at the bigger picture. Step outside of the bubble you have trapped yourself in and talk to people you don’t normally talk to. Who knows, you might learn things about them that you never even thought possible!

Don’t overlook the little things; events that might seem insignificant today might play a large role in your future! Stay away from salads.

* * *

It was beautiful watching humanity progress, in Aziraphale’s humble opinion. There were more of them now, around 100 or so. They were beginning to learn the most basic rules of hygiene and were starting to move out of their caves and into bigger, self-made caves that they called houses.

Despite the angel’s miracles, food was running scarce, and so it wasn’t terribly uncommon for some of them to venture deeper into the woods in order to search for more.

Crawly had just left with one of the prettier women, an odd lady around the age of 20 who hadn’t really talked to anyone since birth. She did really care about her family though in a sort of selfless way.

How typical of the demon to go after the naive and vulnerable! Aziraphale would bet money that the demon was going to flirt with her, God, maybe even go as far as to hold her hand during their little trip to the forest! He couldn’t help but follow the two from afar in order to protect the human from the demon’s influence.

Hell hadn’t sent that many spies to earth just yet, thankfully, since there were only so many people and blending in was such an important part of their job description. With the way things were going Aziraphale expected the war between Heaven and Hell to be a lot further into the future than he had initially thought. Which meant that he would have to wait longer for victory, but it also meant more time on Earth.

He liked Earth, not only because of all the lovely and slightly stupid people but also because of all the other creatures the Lord had put on this lovely planet!

Including but obviously not limited to Crawly.

The demon had proven to be an annoyance at best and a friend at worst. Or, er, a friend at best and… Aziraphale did not WANT to consider a DEMON to be his friend but Crawly wasn’t just any demon.

He did tempt and corrupt which was what the angel had expected of him but there was a childish innocence to his evil. Like he wasn’t really trying but rather having fun with it, which Aziraphale found to be endlessly endearing.

Sometimes Crawly would just lay down on the ground and watch the clouds and often people would join in.

It wasn’t that the clouds were exhilaratingly entertaining but there was simply something hypnotic about the way that the demons red locks moved in the wind and the way that he spoke. His words almost sounded like a song sometimes; with varying tones and beats, fluent and oh, so charming.

He was an excellent tempter and Aziraphale had fallen for his lazy trickery more times than he dared to admit.

Still! If the demon was going to try and hold some young woman’s hand, Aziraphale was going to put his personal appreciation of Crawly aside and thwart him.

The angel followed the two at a leisurely paste, looking at the lush greens of nature and listening to their quiet chatter. Or, rather, Crawly’s quiet chatter since his conversation partner was so notoriously silent.

“And you know what he said? He said that if you do something when you’re told not to, you deserve to be punished. I think that’s just unreasonable.”

Oh?

Was Crawly talking about _him?_

“Punishing is not good parenting and it’s certainly no way to behave if you’re a being incapable of evil, as SHE claims to be. I’m probably looking at this the wrong way though. Am I looking at this the wrong way, dear?”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel righteous fury build up in his chest. How dare he tempt her away from God as well as called her _dear??_

There was a moment of silence before the angel’s delicate ears picked up rather bizarre noises. It sounded like surprised… breathing? A bloodcurdling shriek made Aziraphale’s entire body freeze.

Quickly, he unfurled his wings and half sprinted, half glided towards the awful scream. It had been a female voice. Dear God, what had the demon DONE to her?! No, no, it couldn’t be. It must be some sort of misunderstanding, Crawly wasn’t_ evil_, he was just…

Dear God… what was he even thinking?

Aziraphale didn’t even notice her body among the tall white flowers, until he was right beside her.

He flinched at the sight.  
Her beautiful brown eyes had rolled all the way into her skull, leaving behind only red veins. The dim light from between the leaves above the illuminated her just enough for the angel to make out how her usually pink skin was as pale as freshly fallen snow. There was an unmoving, horrified expression plastered across her face, as if somebody had frozen her in time mid-scream.

Her chest wasn’t rising and falling as it should, indicating that her soul had already left her vessel.

The angel prayed that she was in Heaven now.

She didn’t appear to be injured at all, yet her hands were clutching a bloodied knife. The knife… it was tainted with _black _blood.

_What in the world had happened here?_

There was a trail, a trail of black blood leading deeper into the forest. Away from empty berry bushes and flowers and into the dark unknown full of awful bugs and horrifying old mossy trees. Aziraphale ignored the heavy feeling in his stomach and proceeded.

Angels had rich golden blood running through their veins, blood that would turn black in the boiling pits of sulphur down in the Underground. This was demon blood and a worrying amount of it.

Aziraphale was sure that a simple miracle could have closed whatever wound the woman had inflicted, in self defence or otherwise. It had been her knife. He knew because… because he had blessed it. The knife had been blessed. He had just wanted to help the people cut things better, dear God what had he done?

* * *

Leafy, as Crawly liked to call her, was much stranger than he had anticipated her to be.

She had stabbed him for no reason and out of nowhere! Crawly had never been stabbed before. He had seen it happen but only from afar. It was definitely funnier from afar.

As he stumbled through the forest; her scream still ringing in his ear. The wind was hitting him funny, or that was his excuse for the disorienting feeling that had taken over him. His vision was tilting whenever his breathing got to shallow, or whenever it felt like it, making him fall into the nearest tree or in some cases to the ground.

His hands hurt from the constant rub of the rough surfaces he was holding onto. He was being careless, hurrying to get away as quickly as possible which was only making things more painful and a lot more difficult.

Why had Leafy stabbed him?

_Why wasn’t the bleeding stopping_?

He felt his muscles cramping with the amount of effort it took to keep moving. It hurt, it was tiring, and it did nothing to improve his mood!

Damn humans and their obsession with _sharp things_. Fucking assholes thought that they could just stab ANYONE and not suffer any consequences! Crawly had already dealt with the insufferable creature that had hurt him; he had injected her with enough poison to kill _an elephant_!

Which… in hindsight had probably been _a tad_ unnecessary, draining his poison supply and weakening him even further but STILL!

He had done everything correctly; acted like a good demon, or a bad one depending on how you looked at it. He had killed the dangerous human and run from the scene in order to hide, the dark forest terrain making it hard for simple monkeys to track and find him in his weakened state.

He had done well.

So, then why… _why was he dying?_

Crawly would have liked to pray to the Father of Lies, Destroyer of Worlds, the First and Most Powerful Fallen; Satan for help but there wasn’t much that could be done about the blood gushing out of his chest. No matter how many demons climbed out from the depths of hell in order to save their comrade, _which mind you wouldn’t be that many_, none of them would be able to heal his wound.

Contacting below was meant for reinforcement, not for medical support.

This was because even though Demons could regenerate, they couldn’t _heal_. It was a gift they had lost during their fall because it was a skill that required _caring about others_; which was not something demons were supposed to be capable of.

Crawly had regenerated some of the blood he had lost, probably, but it wasn’t _good enough_ and his shivering was only getting progressively worse with no signs of slowing down no matter what he tried.

He coughed weakly and he felt the action draw even more hot blood from his chest. His knees buckled, probably as some sort of sick punishment for showing such pathetic weakness, regardless of whether or not he was completely alone.

His arms had reacted a bit too late, barely cushioning his fall. The demon scoffed and winced as he sat up fighting the waves of dizziness before he busied himself with pulling the dead leaves out of his hair and the little stones out of his face.

The small tears in his skin regenerated almost instantly.

_So, he wasn’t going crazy. _

The wound aching in his chest was simply betraying him, refusing to heal just to make him appear weak! Crawly wasn’t weak. _He was a powerful demon_, not as strong as most but still not somebody to mess with. His mind was sharper than others and he knew better than to let others think of him as anything less than an equal.

And yet, yet his body was betraying him! His own vessel, succumbing to a simple stab wound!

It was humiliating!

Crawly got up again with a huff but staggered. His vision was doing funny things and despite his best efforts he couldn’t help but wobble and stumble to the ground once again under the weight of own heavy limbs.

His breathing was ragged, short and uneven gasps for air rather than actual breathing.

Squeezing the wound shut didn’t seem to help at all. Concentrating his demonic energy on the wound wasn’t doing anything either but Crawly couldn’t bring himself to not at least try. He was DYING for crying out loud, it was terrifying and painful and why was he feeling so _blessedly_ cold?!

It couldn’t have been a normal knife, he decided. Could it have been blessed?! Was that why it hurt so much? Was that why he was bleeding so profusely? Why wouldn’t it just stop already??

_Admittedly_, he had never died before…

Or, discorporated, as downstairs called it. He wasn’t exactly used to the sensation.

It wasn’t like Falling at all, he noticed.

Falling had been worse, of course, since plummeting helplessly from high places combined with the feeling of his skin catching FIRE and landing in BOILING SULPHUR was a sensation that was basically a one time, one of a kind roller-coaster-ride of agony!

This wasn’t nearly as painful but rather cold and… draining. It was the exhaustion that scared him. The feeling that he might fall asleep and never wake up again. There was no feverish heat and adrenaline and the sickening smell of burnt flesh and sulphur but instead only… Lord he was so tired.

Crawly forced himself to slither closer to a nearby tree and let himself relax just a bit.

He rolled into himself, pulling his knees closer and wrapped his arms around them in order to preserve what little warmth he had left.

His body longed to stay like this forever; begging him to just rest, just for a few minutes.

If it was really hopeless… he supposed that dying in his sleep was as good of a death as he would be allowed. It would be fitting too; he did love sleep. Maybe a bit of rest would make all the paperwork that would await him in Hell at least somewhat bearable…

…

…

.

_“Crawly, are you there?”_

Every muscle in the demon’s body froze. Angel. Oh, oh no _no no no_, this couldn’t _possibly _be happening.

“Crawly?” the edges of his name had been shaved off, spoken with such utter care that the demon was absolutely positive that Aziraphale had come here to _end him_. He was a demon, after all. He was ruining everything the angel was working so hard to build and although it was hilarious, Crawly cursed himself for doing such a good job at it.

The worrying trail of black blood had long since become invisible to the naked eye, due to the sunlight being so heavily blocked by the massive trees, however, Aziraphale was still able to detect the weak demonic energy. He did his best to follow it, vaguely heading towards the large oak tree that the wounded demon was hiding behind.

He had hidden well, mind you, making himself unnaturally small (a benefit of having practically no joints due to his snake origin) and fitting into the tree’s crevasses. It was all instinct, his body’s natural reaction to being injured.

**“I still have enough power left in me to kill you**.” Crawly said. It had taken all of his energy just to utter the words loudly enough and with enough force behind them to sound somewhat intimidating.

He didn’t. Have enough power to kill an angel, that is. But Aziraphale didn’t know that and demons were _supposed to lie_, right?

The angel stopped walking and a sigh of relief escaped Crawly’s lips.

He tried to focus his thoughts. An angel was here. He would find him. Crawly couldn’t kill him… he could never kill Aziraph-

Lord, what was he thinking?

Maybe, if he could just speed up his dying process… he shivered at the thought. He couldn’t just claw his own flesh apart like some sort of deranged Monster! Well, _he could_, but the mere thought of it made him sick.

_It was a better alternative than actually dying at the angel’s hands though._

“You wily serpent!” the angel huffed. “What did you do this time?”

Oh, he was angry. Comically angry, as Aziraphale usually was, but angry nonetheless. Not good. Not good at all.

“For once,** I** didn’t do anything.” He said, his lungs ached with exhaustion. “Random woman decided that her knife was the one accessory missing from my outf-“ he tried but a coughing fit cut him off.

This was so unfair! How was he supposed to keep the angel away when the simple act of talking was leaving him dazed?! His vision remained blurry even after blinking repeatedly and Crawly gave up on it, tongue flicking to keep track of the angel instead.

He cursed himself when he heard Aziraphale step closer once again, he should have known better than to speak. Stupid, stupid demon! He was supposed to be CUNNING, for Satan’s sake! Why was he so incapable of treating the angel like his enemy instead of some kind of childhood friend?!

There was nothing around him that would be used as a weapon. A few short sticks would do him no good against AN ANGEL.

He should have never stopped, should have just wandered aimlessly around the forest until his legs no longer obeyed him but nooooo, he was too high maintenance for that! He wanted to preserve his energy! For what?? He wouldn’t live through this! Such a fool, he had been such a fool.

**“_Don’t you dare come any closer_.”** He hissed. Aziraphale was close enough to hear his laboured breathing at this point and it was getting increasingly hard to not snap; not to scream for help, not to pant and cry and attempt to run away instead of huddling up and hissing defensively_ as if he had enough poison left to kill a bloody angel!_

Aziraphale stepped in place, turning and twisting and looking like an absolute idiot as he tried to locate where the sound had come from. Crawly muffled his breathing but the lack of oxygen was making him feel light headed and that just didn’t seem worth the risk when he was already so tired. He just had to stay awake and just… somehow, _somehow _make the angel leave.

Their eyes met, or at least Crawly was pretty sure they met, it was hard to tell with his messy vision. The angel’s shoulders slumped and he waved his head and arms around sympathetically and then his silhouette started getting bigger.

A deep hiss escaped Crawly’s throat and it took the both of them by surprise.

“Crawly, I’m not going to hurt you…”

“_LIAR!”_ the demon hissed and his own panic made him choke.

“No, really, there’s no point in it. If I kill you, you’d only come back.” He angel said, very carefully inching closer. It was a half-truth. Assuming that the angel didn’t use his grace in order to kill the him, Crawly would be back after a bit of paperwork.

“We both know that’s not true.” The serpent hissed, flicking his tongue and tensing up when he realized that Aziraphale had gotten so close that he could smell the scent that other people left of the angel with simple touches and hugs during the day. It was the smell of family and love and it did nothing but unsettle him.

“Well, yes, maybe, but they would just send another demon in your place and-“

**“Don’t. Come. Closer!”**

Crawly’s heart was beating out of his chest, making him sway as the blood came knocking into his skull, making the entire forest spin.

“Dear… I’m sorry.”

No, no, no, why was he sorry? _He had come to kill him_, there was no doubt in his mind.

“This is all my fault.” Aziraphale whined. “I blessed that cursed weapon.”

_Oh. _

_He… had… planned this._

Betrayal cut the serpent deeper than any knife could ever have. Had it been all a lie? All some kind of trick? A sick joke? He had actually, really thought that the angel and he had at least SOME sort of connection. Maybe not a I-wont-murder-you kind of connection but the kind of acquaintanceship where you wouldn’t actively try and murder the other!

Not at all friendship but just… something. _Anything._

His heart skipped a beat when the angel put his hands up and closed the distance between them. Another step and again, his heart painfully cramped. One more step and Crawly decided that it was officially time to _FUCKING PANIC!_

“Please!” he said and it took the angel by surprise. The demon tried to back up but instead just got up on his feet, heavily leaning into the tree behind him for support and doing everything in his power not to couple over when the act of stretching out made his chest tear even further, increasing the pain tenfold.

_“Crawly…”_

“I’ll do anything you want.” The demon begged. “I’ll stop… I’ll stop interfering. _For years_! I’ll stop for years; you won’t get a deal like that if you kill me! They’ll replace me in months, no, weeks!” he tried. _Desperation was oozing off of his words._

The fake, nervous smile on his face was supposed to be persuasive and reassuring but it had the opposite effect; making the worried angel come closer. He was almost close enough to touch Crawly now and the demon’s heart was doing funny things; skipping and beating randomly, making the spinning much worse and his already flimsy bargaining a lot less believable.

“I promise, I swear!” he said, trying so hard not to cry. He couldn’t think of anything to say. He couldn’t _THINK _at all! It was terrifying. It was absolutely terrifying.

Aziraphale had never been scary before but the creature coming towards him simply _WASN’T Aziraphale. _He could sense the multiple eyes staring right through his human form and into his demonic core, judging his soul for the rotten and evil thing that it was. The angelic aura had never been so strong before; cold and hostile and merciless.

_So fucking cold._

The dizziness became too much to bear and Crawly slipped, collapsing into a ball of pain and panic.

_“Dear boy, I just want to help.”_

A trembling cry escaped the demon’s lips as he shook incessantly, from the fear and cold and the sheer horror of everything suddenly being so cold.

Aziraphale’s hand touched his shoulder and the demon actually screamed.

“Please! Please, please don’t. I never… I never meant to fall, please don’t hurt me!”

* * *

Aziraphale had never felt so sorry for a demon before. He had, regrettably, felt somewhat bad at the fact that so many of his pure hearted comrades had fallen due to one tiny thing or another and he had felt pretty terrible when he had heard the stories of what exactly falling even LOOKED like.

There was a part of him, a pure part, that had hoped the poor demons would faint halfway through the torture but knowing HER they probably didn’t.

Still, he had never seen a demon suffer before, and weren’t they the polar opposite of angels anyway? He had little doubt in his mind that those wretched creatures masochistically _enjoyed_ the pain in a sick kind of way. Laughing at it, instead of crying like some kind of sad angel.

Crawly wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t laughing at all.

Actually, he was making Aziraphale question absolutely everything he thought he knew about demons.

“I never meant to fall-“ the demon said and the angel froze, not quite able to believe his ears.

He was lying, obviously but Aziraphale wasn’t really sure the creature before him was capable enough to come up with a lie so convincing in the state that he was in. Crawly was shaking violently, in a pool of black blood that had tainted his grey robes thoroughly. He was pale and sickly and crying… actually crying due to the amount of stress he was no doubt under.

The angel soothingly touched his shoulder and the demon let out a shrill shriek, pulling at his own hair in an attempt to calm down. The shaking wasn’t normal anymore, it was starting to turn into random body spasms as Crawly’s heart started giving in. Aziraphale focused his grace on his palm and the light drew another cry from the demon.

“A-Aziraphale…” the demon begged. “Please, pleassse, Aziraphale, please don’t.”

‘I could never.’ He thought as he placed his hand on the demons wound and was clawed at in response, black nails digging into his flesh and making him grit his teeth.

The wound stopped bleeding and started to close, making the demon sigh loudly in relief. Crawly’s grip on him became weaker and ultimately the fingernails were removed from his wrist, which was rather unexpected.

Aziraphale pulled away and Crawly’s eyes fluttered close, his body collapsing into the black ink.

Right.

The blood.

The angel frowned. No miracle could regenerate the demon’s lost blood. Aziraphale could only hope that it wasn’t too late, that Crawly wasn’t too weak to pull himself together from this.

_He should probably leave._ There was nothing more he could do for the demon, not to mention the fact that it would be dangerous for the both of them if their respective sides heard about this.

Aziraphale briefly considered moving him to a more secure location, to protect the wounded demon from predators but quickly decided against it. He was playing with fire here. Crawly had already clawed at him, if he bit him as well, which was a possibility if he attempted to lift the dazed demon, it would leave Aziraphale in a similarly poor situation.

No, it was best to just leave. Even if it felt so wrong to leave the pale shivering form before him in this forest… in a pool of his own blood, no less. And it was getting dark too.

_No, no Aziraphale. It’s still a demon._

Even if everything he knew was wrong, which couldn’t possibly be but could also be very possible, demons should not be messed with. He had seen what had happened to that odd woman. He didn’t want to end up like her.

“Thank you.”

Aziraphale’s thoughts were interrupted by an impossible whisper. Had he gone completely mad? Had the demon... a DEMON actually… thanked him? For what? Saving his life?? This, ALL OF THIS, had been entirely the angels fault! What kind of an ethereal creature made out of pure good wouldn’t heal an injured de, er…

Dear God… what had he done?

“I wish I could do more.” He said and meant it.

And with that he left.

_A demon. A demon had just thanked him._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, all comments are appreciated <3


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